There's something about seeing and hearing things that aren't there that makes you come to the conclusion that you're crazy. Meet Halley. Sixteen and stalked by a talking cat, she's losing it. Big time.

He looked at me with his big brown eyes and told he didn't want to die.

Of course he didn't want to die. No one did, except for a handful of suicidals, but he was not among said exceptions.

I knew that. What I didn't know was why I seemed to be the only one to hear my dog say this as he was being wheeled away to be put to sleep.

My entire family was staring teary eyes as Hershey disappeared behind the pet hospital's doors, but didn't seem to notice that our beloved (and slightly stupid) family pet had just opened his mouth and talked.

Looking around the waiting room, I searched for a face as stunned as mine, but found nothing even remotely close.

What she said stung and I looked down at my shoes in shame. I had been the one to feed Hershey all the chocolate that had landed him here in the first place, but there was no need to point fingers as my older brothers were now doing as they glared at me through their tears.

I was only eight, how was I supposed to know Hershey wasn't supposed to have any Hershey bars? And more importantly, how was it deadly for a dog to eat chocolate?

I didn't know the answer to either, and that's why I was here hallucinating from guilt

Yes, that was it. Guilt

Ten and angry with the world, I stared at my mother. The world.

It was the middle of the night and she was in the middle of walking out the front door with suite cases in her hand. We both knew she was over-due on leaving us, her marriage was failing and her "night shifts" were getting longer and more frequent. Glaring outside at the "night shift," I saw how handsome and young he was, and it made me angrier.

Tears were welling up in both of our eyes and my mother's mouth kept opening and closing like a fish, trying to speak or even breath.

"H-Halley, I..."

"Get out."

She started crying now, but I didn't care. I wanted her gone and out of my sight.

Her face went cold and looked numb. She stopped crying and looked me straight in the eyes. We just stood there, quiet and still except for the hum of the truck outside. And then she said it.

"I don't want to die."

And then she left, closing the door behind her.

The stupid truck swerved and hit a stupid tree. It was a stupid way to die, but my stupid mother died.

But again, I ignored it and eventually forgot about it.

Until today.

We didn't know each other very well. At all.

He was that popular guy: rich, good-looking, funny, a jock. In other words: a total jerk. And then there was me: a smart, average-looking girl who could barely afford lunch. The only thing we had in common was being sixteen, but as luck would have it, we both forgot something in the science lab that day.

Opening the door, I found him gathering up his stuff in the back, and when he looked at me, a smirk spread on his face.

"Amen!"

I ignored him, but felt frustrated. My name was Hallelujah, something everyone (even the teachers) got a kick out of.

"Well, if it isn't the virgin herself."

And that was putting what he said in a PG format. I was embarrassed, wishing I had never forgotten my notebook, or better, had never been born (at least with such a stupid name). The rude, clever remarks just kept coming until...they stopped.

There was silence, something strange to hear when in a room with Sam English.

Chancing a glance, I saw Sam with a blank look on his face. He looked numb. Dazed.

And then he said it.

"I don't want to die."

And then he left, slowly walking right out of the room.

I was shocked. It had been so long since I had heard those words, that I couldn't move, let alone breath. Panic and fear swept over me. What was I going to do? Leave him? Follow him?

After that last suggestion to suck his cross and give me some of his holly water, I leaned toward leaving him, but then mentally kicked myself.

Throwing down my bag in frustration, I chased after him and let out a scream of frustration at the sight of the empty halls. The sound of a door being thrown open, directed my attention to the stairs. The roof.

Sprinting and pumping my arms, I ran and ran until I was there.

Gasping, I looked around desperately.

And there he was. On the ledge about to walk off and fall six stories.

"Not...again!" I screamed, lunging.

There. Another dramatic story.

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